Two Weeks, Wrong City
romanceEveryoneFive minutes later she spoke without looking at me. "I'm Alex. Going to Venice." "Theo. Vienna." She nodded. "Why Venice?" I asked. She shifted. "Running from something. Trying to figure out if it's the place or me." "And Vienna?" she asked. "Same." She looked at me then, really looked. "Maybe we're both looking for the same answer."
We walked toward Platform 5 but didn't really talk. At the boarding gate she pulled her bag closer. "This is me," she said. I nodded. "Vienna?" "Yeah." "Good luck," she said quietly. "You too." She turned to go, then hesitated like she wanted to say something. But she didn't. The moment broke. She got in line.
What happens next?
1 ways forwardI watched her disappear into the crowd of passengers. The Venice train pulled away. I stood there thinking I should've asked for her name spelled out, or her number, or anything. But I didn't. And that's how some people stay with you — as strangers who knew exactly what you needed to hear, and then became a question you couldn't stop asking.